


Ride of Shared Melodies

by enchantedlightningwrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Music Lovers, Strangers In A Plane, flangst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedlightningwrites/pseuds/enchantedlightningwrites
Summary: Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their love for music and connect.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Ride of Shared Melodies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honestlyfrance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestlyfrance/gifts).



> Sorry, if the summary's not interesting enough, France! XD I tried my best here^^.
> 
> For France, because you're a lovely friend and writer, and you gifted me a really AWESOME FIC, (go check out 'To Cease Intimacy'!) here's a gift to you, because 💖💖💖 L-LO-LOVE YOU!! ~~not sorry for the Beebo reference, lmaooo~~
> 
> This fic is based on one aesthetic board of mine, and with the help of these [headcanons/ideas](https://honestlyfrance.tumblr.com/post/623255535904489472/also-sorry-for-clogging-your-inbox-again-pal) from the giftee, I'm able to write this thing! My first long fic featuring WinterFalcon after getting a complete Bingo! 
> 
> All completely with fluff poured with tiny sprinkles of angst. Strap yourselves in, folks. . . this is a long ride. (no pun intended, lmaooo)

"Attention, all passengers," the captain says through the speakers. "We'll be taking off in ten minutes. Thank you."

Bucky leans back against the navy blue fabric seat, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. Damn it, he wasn't going to miss a friend's birthday party because this flight was delaying. He wants to fall asleep, so he wouldn't have to deal with the plane being high in the air. It's not his first time being in an air mobile, but he hates heights with every bone in his body.

To everyone else, he might be exaggerating but he's not joking. The sooner the plane takes off, the better chance he has in passing out.

Not to mention, the guy (the one, who smells soapy), beside him, listening to music blasting on his headphones doesn't help either. It's blaring through and it annoys him. It's rattling on his nerves and he doesn't want to be a di(k, but he has to tell him the song needs to be in lower volume. The guy looks intensely focused on the song, his dark eyes almost. . .

Snapping himself out of it, Bucky shakes his head.

_Pull it together, Barnes!_

So, with all the courage that he musters, Bucky taps the guy's shoulder and he takes his headphones off. He turns to him with a smile forming on his mouth. Shit. Is he hearing the heaven's singing or something, because that smile... damn.

His breath almost catches in his throat at the sight, but he urges on.

"Hey," Bucky murmurs, almost sharply. "Would you mind to turn the volume on your mp3 player down a bit? It's kinda bothering me."

The smile slides off the stranger's face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, man. Didn't know that my music was loud. I'll turn it down for you. Really sorry for that."

The sight of it makes his mouth go slack and his throat dries. Bucky instantly wishes that it didn't happen, because he acted like an asshole to the guy.

Who the hell's sane enough to wipe a smile from his face? Bucky, apparently.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he grimaces.

"Shit, I didn't mean to be rude about it. It's just that. . . I've been stressed all day, and. . ."

The stranger shakes his head, pulling his music player up.

"Nah, I get it. I'm got too focused on the music, because I needed a distraction from the noise around me. It kinda gets frustrating, ya know?"

At that statement, Bucky laughs and nods, because he knows that feeling. Before he found a seat, he wanted people to lower their voices. Thankfully, he's not near any kid that might cry or scream or whine.

Bucky gains his composure and looks back at this. . . cute stranger.

"So, uh. What's your name?"

Bucky sees a grin on the stranger's face when he chuckles, deep and. . . almost melodic. God, he's got a cute laugh, and he's trying not to be floored over this.

"Sam Wilson. And you are?"

"James. James Barnes. But you can call me, Bucky."

Sam offers his hand, and he takes it. "Thank you for the introduction, Bucky."

Something in those words are enough to bring a heat sufficing on his cheeks, but Bucky brushes it off. Damn it, he's been smooth around cute people in the past. He knows what to do and he's loaded with pick-up lines, each time. For some reason, his mind's kinda empty.

"No problem, Sam," Bucky says, almost breathlessly.

They shake hands and Bucky gets his back, then Sam's pressing the buttons of his music player and puts on his headphones again.

"What are you gonna to do in NYC?" Sam props his elbow against the side, his eyes peering at him in a once-over. "Are you gonna go to a wedding or something?"

"Nah," Bucky replies, slightly relaxing in his seat. "I'm going to a friend's birthday party. I was here in Seattle for a job, and it's done. So, I can go back to Brooklyn and see him."

Sam's lips quirks in the corners. "Oh, that's cool."

"And, uh, what about you, Sam? Why are you going?"

"Just to visit my cousin with my sister. She's almost in labor and she wants us to be there, when the baby's born."

Bucky's jaw drops and he stares at him with his eyes wide.

"Really?! Congrats for her!"

"Yeah, it's gonna be real good."

He feels like he wants to talk more, then he opens his mouth and—

"Please fasten your seat belts." The Captain's voice interrupted him in that monotonic yet polite tone. "We're beginning to launch."

Panicking, Bucky tries to catch a glimpse of the window that's behind Sam's face. The lights turn dimmer and the engines whir as the plane lifts off the runway, the speed increasing. It bumps and he gets pushed back into his seat, stopping him from checking outside.

Better, so that he won't have to look at the ground while it shrinks.

His heart hammers against his chest as adrenaline burns in his veins. His stomach churns at the light wave of nausea, but he grips on the armrests. No, he can't have a freak-out, the flight's going to start.

By the end of it, he's going to puke.

"Um, do you want to hold my hand?" Someone asks lightly with a hint of concern.

Bucky jolts, turning to the stranger. "Huh? What?"

"You wanna hold hands?" he replies, offering a hand. "If it's gonna remove the tension from you, I won't mind. Sometimes, people can get scared of being in a plane ride."

_Sometimes? How about all the time?_

A part of him wants to make a joke back, but he's not feeling comfortable at the moment.

"Sure," Bucky says, without a second thought. He reaches for Sam's hand and clasps it in his own, linking their fingers together tightly. "Now much better."

Sam chuckles and leans his shoulder against his. "There ya go."

Bucky needs a moment to find his breath, unsure if it's because of the plane launching or the body warmth radiating from Sam. He wants to bask in his presence, and there's something that's steady and secure about him.

But it's all too much thoughts for a stranger, he thinks with rationality.

He squeezes his eyes closed and the tension picks up. However, the strong hold from Sam's hand reassures him, almost calming him. 

The noise in the background's still there, and somehow he doesn't mind.

Eventually, the plane moves into a steady motion and Bucky lets out a shaky breath of relief that floods him. He loosens his hold on Sam's palm, also lingering his. . . touch. He lets their hands stay like that, before separating their fingers again.

Bucky smiles shyly at Sam, resting his hand at the armrest. "Thanks for, um, doing that."

Sam blinks for a moment, and it washes away some. . . regret? Did he see it or he imagined it?

"Yeah, no problem," Sam murmurs, pressing a button on his music player. "It felt. . . nice."

When he looks at a glimpse on the screen showing Sam's songs, he gasps.

"Holy sh!t, you listen to Ella Fitzgerald?" Bucky asks with surprise, feeling energized and a sudden rush of adrenaline.

A few people looks at him with expressions of exasperation and he slumps his shoulders in an effort to look like he's going to disappear of something. To get away from their judgmental sights. And he had a complaint with noisy passengers, huh?

Now he's a idiot to everyone, Bucky thinks with embarrassment.

Sam arches a brow, scrunching his nose. "What? Are you serious? I'm sure people, these days, don't listen to these songs, anymore."

"Yeah, uh, I thought most people do—" Bucky cuts himself off with a laugh. "I'm not judging you, I swear. It's just that, I love her songs too! I didn't think you'd be a fan of her."

"Well, she's got beautiful songs," Sam remarks, almost dreamily. "I can safely tell you that I'm not ashamed of the songs I listen to. Doesn't matter if they're old, lots of them are still worth listening to."

Damn, not only he has a great smile, he's got that fine music taste too.

Bucky can't contain the excitement bubbling up. He brings his phone out of his pocket, turning it on and clicks on the music app.

Now he's got a way to pass the time in this flight. He should be sleeping, but screw it. If he's going to enjoy himself, he could do it with the stranger beside him, and they're gonna be here for awhile.

Yeah, sleep can wait.

"Okay, okay," Bucky says, knowing he has to be cool. "So, which songs you got?"

***

The amount of vintage songs in that list was incredible. Wow. Even he doesn't have that much in his own player. He scrolls through the genres, albums and artists that he's got, revealing so much about his favorite music styles.

From Ella Fitzgerald to Nat King Cole, this stranger's got a real thing for Jazz. He caught a few classical music pieces too, mostly Tchaikovsky.

Damn, he should download more soon.

Sam's feeling over the moon.

No, it's not because of the guy's good looks or his ridiculous smile. It's the little things that he notices and he's cherishing that information as long as he has it. Like how Bucky's hands, filled with veins yet soft, entwined with his own. Or like how his blue eyes lit up with that vibrant electricity. 

He's charmed by this man, good Lord. A part of him couldn't wait to tell Riley, all about it soon. He's gonna sound like a real dork, but he doesn't care. 

Bucky plays a jazz song and Sam tries to hear it from the speaker. He falls into the swing beat of the music and quietly hums the lyrics.

"This sounds amazing," Sam whispers, closing his eyes to the music.

"Yep. That's why it's one of my favorites," Bucky says with a contented sigh.

He opens his eyes again to the stranger beside him.

Once he's done listening, Bucky shows him the songs that he has, and Sam takes note about how he has songs that his music player does. Like 'Moonlight Serenade', 'At Last', 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough', 'I've Got A Pocket Full of Dreams', and he's starting to lose count. Sam's not sure on how to really react to that.

"Damn, Bucky, you're really into jazz." Sam stares at the number of songs in that category.

"So, you like jazz?" Bucky asks, looking up from the phone.

Sam chuckles, pressing a hand over his heart. "Finally, someone who's not afraid to say it unironically. Uh huh, I do."

A stewardess stops by their seat, along with a tray. She turns to smile at them and lifts the lid from the plate, revealing different sorts of snacks.

"Excuse me, sir," she says with practiced formality. "Would you like to have a snack? We've got sandwiches, chocolate bars, pretzels, and a variety of drinks."

"Hm, I'd like a bottle of water, please," Sam requests, smiling back.

"Same here," Bucky replies in a small voice.

The stewardess retrieves the two bottles of water under the section of the food and distributes it to them. She starts pushing the tray again, sauntering to the next seat.

"Enjoy the flight, sirs."

Sam nods in acknowledgement and Bucky thanks her. He returns his focus on his music player, clicking the switch button. While Bucky removes the cap from his bottle and drinks the water, Sam searches for a song in his 1930's playlist. 

He raises a brow at a song, which he saved as a favorite.

Hopefully, Bucky will fall in love with the song too.

Lending his headphones, Sam taps on a song. "Here, listen to this."

Bucky places the speaker near his ears, tilting his head to the side. "Yeah. This sounds real good."

Sam hands his music player to Bucky, who takes it and rests his eyes at the screen. He moves down the list, checking the details of each song on it. He makes a sound of awe, as if he's amazed by what he's seeing.

An exquisite feeling touches his heart, and it's indescribable.

"Whoa, Louis Armstrong, Lead Billy, Josephine Baker, Billie Holliday and. . . hold on? Do I spot Marvin Gaye, George Michael, Diana Ross, and Ne-Yo in there?"

"Yeah, I've got a lot of jazz and R&B in my playlist," Sam says, his heart swelling with that fond warmth that he's always had for music. "They've all got their own range and talent, and I couldn't resist. Don't you like a modern singer, Bucky?"

The stranger throws his head back and starts counting it off with his fingers.

"I do have a few. Ed Sheeran, Beyonce, and Janelle Monae."

"Ed Sheeran?" Sam wiggles his brows, almost amused. "You like his songs?"

Bucky shoots a resting b!tch face at him. "Well, I only like one song of his."

"Don't worry," he replies, patting his hand. "I can be a real sap too. I kinda melt whenever I hear 'Perfect' being played."

"Pfft." Bucky scoffs, making a face at him. "Seriously? 'Perfect'? Okay, I see."

"Hmm, you ever listened to 'Trouble Man' before?"

With his brows furrowing, Bucky's forehead creases with pinched lines as he rubs the five o'clock shadow accentuating his cheekbones and jawline. Sam has to resist the need to fan himself, but he doesn't have to.

Bucky's more than a pretty face, he thinks, chastising himself inwardly.

Maybe it's their similar music tastes or their favorite artists, Sam can't deny that he's sorta drawn to him. He wants to know more about Bucky. . .where he grew up, how did he fell in love with music, what did he work as, did his friends care about jazz like he did and so much more.

Too bad, he doesn't get a chance to in this short plane ride. Well, they could find each other in social media or something, except for Sam, he might grow obsessed with the idea of more.

But if this is what he's gonna get, he's going to have to make the best of it.

By the time his somber expression disappears, Bucky grimaces.

"Once? I think? Don't call me a heathen for this."

"Just once. Hmm, would you mind if you played it for me?"

The subtle gentle tone in his voice might as well make Sam blush, because he's never had anyone ask him to do things like this. Sharing and listening to music together, especially with songs that he loves.

Well, yeah, he did listened to music with Riley, but it was rare. Riley was also polite, but he didn't feel that connection with him. It could also be true that Sam's in his own head. Still, he feels things that he can't help.

It's a small miracle to have someone like Bucky sit beside him.

Sam nods, attaching his headphones to the music player. "Sure."

"When we're at it, I'm going to use a dual plug."

"What for?"

"So, I won't have to borrow your headphones and bug you about it," Bucky answers cheekily with a grin.

"Ooh, alright." Sam feels his cheeks burn at the slight stupidity of his. "Go ahead. I'm probably gonna listen to music for the rest of this flight."

_With you_ , he doesn't add.

The only other things that he hears is, the snoring of the passengers behind, crumpling of a food packet, some muffled sounds from the TV screens, and the surprisingly tranquil engine of the plane. The lights turn into a lavender, filling the area.

Bucky pulls out a dual plug from the pocket of his jacket and Sam places it on his music player. They both connect their earphones, then he plays that particular song on his request. Sam sighs and presses his head on his shoulder.

He got the song from a playlist, so it might change to another by the time the plane would land.

"Ahhh, so good," Bucky mumbles, yawning. "Sam, your music taste is impressive."

Sam doesn't know what to say to that compliment. He looks over to see Bucky's eyes drifting close. If he had, he would have wrapped him up in a fuzzy blanket. 

Better yet, he would have covered the two of them in blankets and they would. . .

Somewhere, between the songs switching to another, Sam finds himself giving in to sleep while listening to the rhythm of the music from the headphones and Bucky's soft breathing. 

***

The first thing he wakes up to is Louis Armstrong's voice and his hand wrapped on someone's knee. It alarms him a little and he loosens his grip.

Bucky yawns, slightly shaking his head.

"Attention, all passengers, we have now landed in Manhattan, New York," the captain voice announces. "Please be sure to check on your personal belongings, before you leave the plane. Have a nice evening."

Just in time, Bucky thinks dryly. He stretches an arm and cracks his eyes open to the bright surroundings. He sees the runway once more, and grins slightly.

He's thankful that he missed the process of the landing, . He slowly tugs the earphones out of his ears, before disconnecting the dual plug and inserts the headphones again.

When he finds someone pressing their head against his shoulder, his face blanches. Shit, the two of them have gotten touchy more than Bucky likes to admit. However, the peaceful expression on Sam's face, calms him.

Even though the ride's been too short, Bucky feels like he's known Sam for a long time. He might sound stupid, but he's never known someone so well and instantly as he did with Sam and his music playlist.

And now. . . they go on their separate ways and return to their own lives.

Which should be fine to Bucky, because Steve's birthday is tomorrow and he can't afford to miss it. 

In this lifetime, he'll probably meet tons of strangers with music taste like his. But none of them will be Sam Wilson. None.

"Hey, jawline," Sam murmurs, his voice hoarse with sleep.

Bucky blinks, then lets out a brief laugh. "Hiya, Sammy."

"We're on the ground, already?"

"Uh, yup. Captain says that we gotta go."

Sam opens his eyes and rubs one of them. He opens his phone and closes it, then clicks a button on his music player.

"Hmm. Okay."

After he removes his headphones, Bucky observes Sam flexing his arms. Which are definitely muscled underneath the sleeves of that red button down shirt. He gets up from his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Ah, right. Bucky follows him, almost clumsy with his movements.

Sam keeps his music player in his pocket, and Bucky feels like he's keeping his heart. 

What a stupid notion, he thinks bitterly. He's not. . . no, it's completely ridiculous.

He steps onto the aisle, allowing Sam to leave. Bucky tries to avoid getting bumped into someone in this narrow space. He searches for his backpack on top of the overhead compartments and pulls it open. He gets it and shuts it close.

Bucky unzips his backpack and puts his earphones inside, and

A part of him looks to Sam, with his hand on top of the upper overhead compartment, as he for something.

"You want me to help ya with that?" Bucky asks, trying to get a better look.

"Nah," Sam answers, grabbing the handle of a duffle bag. "I didn't bring any heavy stuff, so I'm all good."

"Oh," Bucky says, feeling awkward.

Why did he ask _that_? If this is a way to get some extra time between them, he should be doing better than this.

Pouring his attention on leaving the plane, Bucky. He'll still see him in the check-up line, right? Nothing to worry about. With fast and heavy steps, Bucky leaves the plane with the backpack on his back and his heart on the line. . . 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he goes to the door and takes the direction of the boarding bridge, feeling small underneath the closed ceiling and glass walls. 

The sliding doors open as the passengers get inside the long, open area, where queues are filled with many people carrying their luggage. 

Beside the door, the security personnel lets him into the airport. Different queues fill up the gates for the different airlines available, and he looks at the screen displaying the schedules of flights.

The intercom calls names to check-in and when he hears his, he heads down to the luggage area.

By some chance, he sees Sam, standing and waiting for his luggage. A white suitcase rolls out of the machine, then someone else claims it. 

Sam's brows raise and he smiles when he returns Bucky's gaze.

F**k, he wasn't ready to watch his man go.

"Hi, stranger," Bucky greets casually, plastering a grin.

Sam types on his phone, before he waves at him. "Hey, Bucky."

"So, I w- can we exchange phone numbers?" He blurts out. "Ya know, in case, if you wanna talk or send text sometimes. If you're okay with it, I mean."

_Because I want to hear you talk and I wanna hear you sing to the songs that you love. . ._

"Right! Almost forgot about that." Sam saunters up to him with phone in hand. "Can't wait to text you soon."

He bites his lower lip, tingling with anticipation.

Sam and Bucky give each other their phones. His hands almost tremble upon touching it, but Sam's typing with smoothness and full concentration.

It took Bucky four attempts to type his own number correctly and his fingers almost slips at the wrong ones, because he gets distracted by Sam's face, the glow of his dark brown eyes, and that trimmed facial hair. . .

Returning his phone, Bucky gets his back and keeps it into his pocket. Sam stares down at the screen and grins. Wow, he must be so happy about something. It didn't occur to Bucky to ask him, if he's taken but he looks single, _at least_.

A black suitcase case moves out of the baggage carousel. Sam carries it down and pulls the handle, beginning to roll it forward. The wheels click on the marble floor.

Bucky adjusts his baseball cap, before he finds the brown case. He lifts it out of the carousel with ease, gripping on the handle and it hits his side. 

He falls into step beside Sam, almost finding himself walking. They stroll through the scope of the area, and got slightly far apart with each different direction. He almost runs into a door, all because he's focusing on that stranger. Like he's going somewhere with him, and he'll get lost if he loses track.

Instead, he's going to a hotel and Sam's probably going to his sister or cousin's place.

Bucky wishes he could say more, so he decides to go after it. When he gets the courage, Sam's phone rings and he closes his mouth again. Ugh, maybe it's better if he just shut up for the duration until they say good-bye. There's one thing that he wants to make sure of, before that happens.

They venture out to the entrance of the airport to the streets filled with different vehicles. Bucky's eyes skates over to the cabs, to Sam, who's also examining the same street. They're standing a few feet away from each other, close enough for Bucky to break the distance between them.

The sound of airplanes taking off swoosh in the far above, along with the wheels of other suitcases hitting the ground.

Up in the royal blue sky, the half-crescent moon hangs up high on it's empty dark canvas.

He can do this. He can still have one more conversation, even if it's only small, and then he will go on with his life.

Bucky gazes into Sam's dark brown eyes again, his heart fluttering. "Promise me, you'll send a text soon?"

"Promise," Sam whispers with sincerity. "I won't forget. It's the first thing I'll do, when I get to my hotel room."

"Speaking of hotels," Bucky says, hoping that he didn't sound nervous. "Which one, are you staying in?"

"Hampton Inn," Sam answers, sounding focused on something else. "It's where I'll be in for the rest of my trip."

Standing more alert, he widens his eyes at Sam. "Wait, Hampton Inn? Holy shit, I've booked a reservation there too!"

Turns out that he won't have to say good-bye tonight, at all.

Sam freezes in shock, almost dropping his phone. However, he looks back at him with his mouth curving into a wide smile.

"Hey, that's great! Which floor number did you pick?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'll do it, when I get there though."

Bucky fiddles with the tabs of his jacket, watching Sam rub his palms together.

"Okay, Bucky. This all feels too good to be true."

"I completely agree."

Sam inhales a sharp breath, casting his gaze upwards.

"Wanna get a cab with me?"

"Sure! That way you get to spend my money!"

He hears Sam snort as he shakes his head. Bucky smiles at him, warmth spreading throughout his chest and his heart sings. Sam raises a hand out to call for a cab, gradually gaining the awareness of one with vacant seats.

It pulls up to stop by the moment it gets to them. Sam goes to the driver's window, speaks to them and tells them about the address of the place, they're going to. He steps back as Bucky lays a hand on the door handle, leading to the backseat.

"Uh, d-do you wanna get in?" Bucky asks, swinging his case.

"Hell yeah." Sam unlatches the door and smiles at him. "What are we waiting for?!"

They store their suitcases in the trunk, putting Sam's on the with Bucky's small case on top of it. They seal it closed together and Sam gives a pat to Bucky's back, gliding it up and down in a manner as if they've known each other for years instead of a few wistful hours.

When they get into the seats, the both of them share a laugh, almost melodic and full of harmony, almost colliding onto each other. Sam turns on his music player and they listen to it with Bucky's earphones. The cab takes off on the road, and they get enraptured by the spell of the music being shared.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to ramble with me, you can @enchanted-lightning-aes in tumblr!


End file.
